The One Who Came Before
by TheInvisibleGurlz
Summary: Harry finds that he's not the only wizard at number four privet drive. Rated T for a sneak peek of Tooth and Claw; actual story is rated K.


**The One Who Came Before**

 **A.N.: I was feeling like writing this, so I went for it! Not a whole lot, here, just a brief scene. However, I'm adding a sneak peek into Tooth and Claw at the end, so stay tuned! Enjoy!**

When his father had told Dudley that he was losing the use of his second bedroom, he couldn't help but pitch a fit, for two reasons.

The first, of course, was that he kept all his best stuff in there, and he'd hate to lose his playstation just because his cousin was a freak.

The second, however, was definitely more complicated. And _definitely_ something he couldn't tell dad.

He still remembered when he'd asked why they were all so mean to Harry. They'd been going on in school about how deplorable the state of living was in other countries, and it still sounded better than Harry's cupboard.

And then dad had sat him down and explained how Harry was different, how he'd been born to mom's odd sister and how his difference, while it was completely out of his control, was not something to be tolerated. And so, he hadn't questioned it. And he'd been cruel. And jealous, most of all.

 **BREAKLINE**

The room was so much bigger than the cupboard under the stairs that anyone who had spent eleven years sleeping there would have cried tears of joy at the upgrade. But, honestly, Harry just wanted his letter.

He set his things down and laid on his new bed, slipping his hands underneath the thin pillow.

And then he felt an envelope.

He pulled it out from his pillow, flipping it over his hands. It was the same yellowed parchment as the other letter he'd received, with the same scarlet wax seal, and his heart leaped with joy. Now, he finally had the chance to read his letter without anyone else knowing!

His face fell when his finally opened it. The seal had already been carefully peeled away; he supposed the hot summer days had partially melted it back into place. The letter read, " _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Mr. Dursley,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_ "

Harry's heart hung about his knees. It made sense now; he supposed this was exactly the kind of thing Dudley _would_ do, trying to make him jealous.

He tossed the letter into the trash bin, indignantly refusing to look at it.

 **BREAKLINE**

The door creaked open, pulling Harry from his sleep. At first, he didn't move; it was probably Uncle Vernon making sure he didn't try anything funny.

But then he heard something rummaging in his trash, and he sat up and saw Dudley standing there, clutching the letter and looking rather like a deer in the headlights.

"I just...I came to..." he stuttered, trying desperately to make it look like the letter wasn't for him.

"Dudley," Harry breathed, "are-are you..."

"No! No, I just...I-I...I was just trying to...get your..." He stammered, keeping his eyes off Harry's. And then he sighed, and finally met his gaze. "Please don't tell mum and dad. _Please."_

Slowly, Harry nodded his sworn secrecy, and punctuated it by zipping his lips shut.

"Thanks," Dudley murmured, before closing the door and letting Harry get back to sleep.

 **A.N.: I know Rowling said that Dudley couldn't be a wizard, but I'm a fanfic writer, so the rules don't apply. I like to think that Dudley is a wizard, which would explain how he can be so fat (he was described as being the size of a small whale) and still go about his day normally. I'm toying with the idea of adding another chapter where he's more proud of his magical heritage. Let me know if that's something you'd like to see.**

 **Now, as promised, a peek at Tooth and Claw. Tooth and Claw is a Young Justice fanfiction taking place around the time of season two. In it, Nightwing is turned into a werewolf and finds himself biting off far more than he can chew. Here, he changes for the first time.**

He'd gotten halfway through an episode of Doctor Who when he found himself broiling in his clothes, sweat dripping from his chin. Removing first his already thin shirt, and then his pants, Nightwing checked the time on the clock. 7:00, moonrise.

Dick staggered from his bedroom to the bathroom in a vain attempt to distance himself from the full moon. Already his blood was searing in his veins, his heart beating a mile a minute. He tried to control his breathing, finding that even this was difficult as his lungs constricted and his throat ached, making him want to cough more than anything else.

There was…a sensation that he really should have predicted off the bat.

When he'd read up on the condition and paired that with the knowledge from the few werewolf movies he'd seen, the idea had been clear. Transformations would hurt. And so, he'd expected just that.

He hadn't expected this at all.

It was less like an unspecific, burning, writhe-so-you-can-hold-everything kind of pain; and more like that plus squishing, twisting, and pulling. It was writhe-because-everything-in-your-body-is-physically-moving-and-changing pain.

His face itched as much as it burned. He heard bones in his back and neck cracking like a fire, causing his head to twist with agony. Nausea hit him like a wave, and he wanted so badly to empty his already cramping stomach. A liquid began to fill his mouth and he, on impulse, spat the fluid out. He was horrified to see his sink turn red.

Gripping the edge of the counter like a vice, both to stave off the tear-jerking pain and to keep himself up, Dick chanced a look from the blood to the mirror through watery eyes.

Said eyes, he found, burned brilliant sapphire. Facial hair – in the form of faint mutton chops, bushy eyebrows, and a widow's peak reaching down his forehead – accompanied the agonizing transformation, as well as, of course, feral fangs on his top and bottom jaws where his teeth were aching and tugging. He vaguely noticed that his ears felt strange, sitting higher up on his head, fighting to shift higher, as they turned sharply pointed.

Gritting his teeth and forcing his mind to focus as he turned and slid to the floor, Dick raised a shaky hand to the communicator, still in his ear.

"B-Bruce," he stammered over his fangs. "Help…me!"

A moment's pause stretched into what felt like hours, followed by "Where are you?"

"My house, in my bathroom. I'm trying to hold it off," he replied, lisping slightly.

"Stay there, keep away from windows."

"Bruce, I covered my windows, it isn't helping!" Dick screamed, only to scream again in pain as the lack of focus allowed the change for another moment. Tears streamed down his face.

"We'll come get you, stay where you are."

"Please, get here quick," Dick replied, wincing as another stab of pain shot through his body.

From the outside, Dick's apartment looked perfectly normal. Which was why Batman found it that much more unnerving as he steeled himself to whatever he might find inside.

Slowly opening the door in case Dick had already turned, he entered the bedroom, finding the door to the bathroom already open, light flooding from it. A dark-headed figure sat doubled over against the sink; Bruce let out a sigh of relief.

"Dick," he addressed the boy, approaching in three large strides. "Dick." He placed a hand on the boy's shaking shoulder, stooping to eye level.

With a strangled mix between a grunt and scream, Dick shrugged the hand off, rubbing at his shoulder with his left hand, keeping the right to clench at his stomach. Now that he could see Dick up close, Bruce was shocked by how far the transformation had gotten already.

Hair stretched along his face, looking like it intended to cover him completely. His clenched teeth had come to points and blood dribbled down his lip. Eyes that had previously been closed now opened, flickering across Batman's face without recognition.

"It's me," Bruce said, pushing back his cowl. "It's Bruce. You know me."

Dick's glowing eyes shifted from the stranger's face off to the side, staring into space in thought, before a hesitant nod became a surer one. Bruce let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Can you stand?" This time, Dick shook his head.

"Can you speak?" Another head shake.

"Can you do anything?" he pressed. In response, Dick leaned over and spat blood from his mouth, followed by rancid bile. Before he could respond, he screamed again. At least, it sounded like it would have been a scream.

What came out of his mouth was a dog-like whine that devolved into a growl, muffled by his hand. His half-human face contorted into a look of intense pain. Fresh tears sprung from his eyes as his jaw stiffened. Though it was subtle, Bruce could see the changes appearing. Dick's nose stretched and pushed forward. When his eyes reopened, the whites had turned black, intensifying the sapphire glow. It was almost imperceptible, but they were changing shape, too; Bruce could tell.

Either the spell had passed or Dick had somehow gotten it under control, because he pulled his hand away from his mouth, still fanged, and leaned his head against the cabinet as he grimaced at the last of the pain. He gulped air through his open mouth as he brought a tentative, clawed hand up to his head to scratch at something.

"Do you need to change?" Bruce's voice was barely above a whisper, but Dick seemed to hear it anyway. Without making eye contact, he nodded solemnly. His wolfish, black and blue eyes slipped shut; whether it was from relief, pain, or fatigue, Bruce couldn't tell.

"Hold on," he said, pulling his cowl back over his head. He scooped the werewolf up in his arms, ignoring his kicking and twitching. Opening the front door, he dropped him onto the deck outside, before slamming it shut, placing a barrier between them.

He clenched the doorknob in his fist as he listened to his son's agonized yowling. He grit his teeth so hard that he felt one of them crack, until, finally, a loud, deep, mournful howl erupted from the other side of the door. He hesitated a few more seconds before opening it.

 **Let me know what I can improve on for the larger piece; I'd really appreciate a review. Thank you for your time and GOD BLESS!**


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